Nero ran across the deck, then up another slick set of steps to the wheel room or bridge.
He had to hold tightly to the railings on the way up the wind thrashed violently shoving Nero back and forth on the stairs, while whipping his clothes to tangle around him.
Nero knew till the day he died he would never forget the deafening roar of the winds
whistle in his ears and the feel of the rumbling under his feet. Between the shifting of the stairs and the whooshing of the wind, it took everything Nero had to stay on his feet.
Nero trudged ahead, with rain piercing the skin on his face and him grumbling with each step. “I hate these blasted storms. They come in like a thief, silent and stealthy, to steal your boat out from under you.” Offhandedly he shrugged in his musing, “Or like a woman. When her wrath is shaken you feel the full fury of her temper.”
With great effort Nero finally made it to the wheel room where Georgey was fighting
desperately to keep the ship under control with the help of a few officers. Nero could tell that even for a man of such an extraordinary size, he was having a hell of a time with it. Nero knew it took more than shear bulk, it took skill, practice and a finer understanding of every inch of the ship you were trying to maneuver.
Nero took over with Georgey’s heart felt gratitude. Every thought left him as his
instincts took over. With his hands firmly on the wheel he took charge, feeling the vibrations of Mama Lee fighting back against the storm that threatened to take her under.
For a moment Nero thought Mama Lee might loose the fight as the ship tilted onto her
side. Shouts of ‘man overboard,’ rang out. There was a flurry of activity as every man ran wildly trying to save both the ship and the sailors that were lost to the angry sea.
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